Drive To Lend A Hand

Retired Man Helps Put Cancer Patients On The Road To Recovery

July 27, 2000|By SUSAN SHARP Daily Press Correspondent

SUFFOLK — Aleck Winslow's truck doesn't seem to warrant any special attention as it cruises along Route 10 through Chuckatuck in Suffolk. To other motorists and the occasional front-porch-lounging local, Winslow's blue pickup is merely a blur of azure among the other colored streaks of metal rolling by.

Now and then a few do take notice of Winslow and his vehicle - a friend who leans from his big rig on the gravel road in front of Kelly's Nursery to wave a hello, and Winslow's eldest son, Win, who recognizes his father's 1997 Chevrolet in front of Oakland Christian Church and slows his own truck to offer a howdy to Dad.

For a handful of Suffolk residents, Winslow and his truck are a link to a hoped-for cure of cancer: The vehicle is transportation from several people's homes to Suffolk's Obici Hospital and the treatment that awaits.

Twice a week, Winslow volunteers his time and truck to Road to Recovery, an American Cancer Society program that offers free assistance to cancer victims either unable to drive or without transportation to their hospital therapy appointments.

"I'm the Tuesday and Wednesday Guy," Winslow announces heartily. Tall, strapping and snappily dressed in bright red, white and blue T-shirt, shorts and sneakers, the Tuesday and Wednesday Guy also announces that in Chuckatuck, people don't shake hands, they give big hugs. He appears ready to pounce and deliver the promised breath-squeezing embrace at a moment's notice.

In January, Winslow found himself retired from his 43-year job as a supervisor at the Newport News Shipbuilding. Although he volunteers for the Suffolk Fire Department, he also found himself with a bit more idle time, as well as an idling truck, on his hands. He decided a second volunteer job would fill some of the space left in his life by the shipyard.

Known in the community as a people person, he was offered several kinds of volunteer work, but held out for just the right type. He didn't want to fold envelopes, didn't want to shuffle papers. He wanted something hands-on with people, he says, something that let him interact with others.

Winslow makes another announcement, stating a preference at high volume so it won't be unclear:

"I lo-o-o-ove people! Love helping 'em!"

He then loudly announces what turns him off, in case that also might be ambiguous:

"Administrative work? No, no, don't want any part of it. Had that for 43 years in the shipyard!"

So, Winslow met with Karen Babb, community specialist with the American Cancer Society, who checked his driving record and his auto insurance, then trained and outfitted him with a neat little packet of papers that described his Road to Recovery driver duties - as well as cautioned him to watch for signs of cancer in himself and his loved ones.

Each week since January, he has been the final link in a chain of command: The Cancer Society notifies the secretaries at Oakland Christian Church, who send word to Winslow of those who need rides that week - on Tuesday and Wednesday. Winslow and his truck then rev into action.

"He's carried me back and forth quite a few times," attests 64-year-old Samuel Colander, who wrapped up his cancer treatment last month and reports he's doing "pretty good."

"He talked a lot and was real friendly," Colander says. "I always enjoyed his company." He pauses then adds, "You know, he says he's retired, but it looks to me like he's still workin' right much."

After Winslow taxis his passengers to Obici, he lingers while they receive therapy. He smiles as he describes the hospital staff:

"The nurses are fantastic with the patients."

He then describes his wait in the lobby:

"They've always got a fresh pot of coffee on!"

As Winslow partakes of the complimentary coffee, his passengers-turned-patients are ushered to one, or both, of two types of treatments: Chemotherapy administers cancer-killing medication to patients intravenously, and radiation therapy administers therapeutic doses of radiation via laser beams to specific body parts.

Patients undergoing radiation treatment have been lying on a table while a 13-foot-high and 10-foot- wide, light-gray machine circles a rotating head over selected body parts. Now they are more than ready to become passengers again and to sit in the other machine - Winslow's four-wheeled, sky-blue one, which he will gently guide back to their homes.

The Silverado offers some homespun comfort itself. It's clean, but with a tiny bit of casual clutter - a rain slicker tossed into the back seat, a few odds and ends up front, including a coffee-cup holder - so it avoids that stuffy, sit-up-straight-and-don't-touch-anything sterility.

As he drives, Winslow gauges his passengers' moods and their tolerance for talk.

Winslow believes he has found the right niche in his new hands-on, people-oriented driving job, and he doesn't count on leaving any time soon for less demanding but less satisfying administrative desk work.

"I plan to stay in," he vows, "as long as I can do it safely for the patients."

And anyway, you can't hug paperwork.

ALECK WINSLOW

AGE: 65

SONS: Win, 38; Darryl, 34

WIFE: Helen - for 40 years

TO HELP OUT

* Despite having to go occasstional extra mile, so to speak, Road to Recovery volunteers tend to stick around. Cancer Society Community Specialist Karen Babb cites one volunteer who chauffeured for more than 25 years. Even so, Babb says new volunteer drivers are always welcome and needed throughout Virginia. To volunteer, contact Babb at 1-800-227-2345.